


A Curse Shared is a Curse Broken

by mortenavida



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortenavida/pseuds/mortenavida
Summary: There was one rule for Bucky’s magic: don’t cause destruction. When an accident breaks that rule, he needs to find a way to fix it before his own magic turns on him.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14
Collections: Jay's Big Bang Fics, Stucky Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldheartedsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldheartedsky/gifts).



> This was a fun collaboration for stuckybang’s RBB! I’m excited to bring the amazing art by [goldheartedsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldheartedsky) to life through this fic. A lot of research went into fae and I’m sure I still got some of it wrong -- my deepest apologies for that! See endnotes for the different types I used and the definitions I went by. Thank you so much to coldwinterrose for the help in this -- I wouldn’t have finished it without you!
> 
> The two songs of inspiration for this: “In the Woods” by Hozier and “Stone” by Jaymes Young.

__

_~My head was warm, my skin was soaked. I called your name ‘til the fever broke.~_

His shoes had fallen off some time ago, though Bucky couldn’t be sure when. The thick underbrush stabbed into his bare feet and yet he kept running through the surrounding trees. His heartbeat, loud in the whispering silence, quickened the further he went until Bucky could take no more. He collapsed on the forest floor, one hand scraping on a protruding rock; he took no notice of the smear of blood left behind. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the swirls of color threatening to overtake his senses.

Magic, he decided, was not worth the pain of misusing it. Not that he had ever intended to do so, but magic rarely cared about intention. He sucked in a breath, the air stale in his lungs. So close -- the lake where his mother now lived was _so close_. She could help him if he could _get there_. He needed to move, but his arms shook against the earth and his legs refused to respond to his simple request. _Get up!_

“W... Winnifred!” Maybe, just maybe she could hear him from here. His bloodied fingers dug into the dirt and he coughed out something that _could_ be blood, but he wasn’t entirely sure. “Winnifred! _Mom_!”

A few birds took flight, their cries loud in the otherwise silence around him. Bucky wanted to cry, the tightness in his chest growing. Cold seeped through his skin and he wondered, briefly, when exactly he had lost his shirt. Left with a pair of black slacks and unstable magic coursing through his veins, Bucky wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this.

His mouth opened in a silent scream, his magic pulsing out in a wave around him. The trees groaned under the power and he could hear the high-pitched bitching of the forest fae. He _wanted_ to apologize, the words were on the tip of his tongue, but nothing came out.

Bucky’s vision swam and he let out a sob as his face met the earth. Darkness overcame him, but even in the void of his own mind, things weren’t calm. His magic tore at him until he was sure he screamed.

\-----

_Earlier that day..._

\-----

Bucky ran down the stairs of the townhouse he shared with his father and sister, murmuring through the latest ritual he was trying to memorize. The ritual itself wasn’t hard to do -- most spellwork that involved cleaning didn’t -- but the execution was the tricky part. His best friend, Natasha, had given him the ritual a few days before when they came across rude graffiti near the children’s park. Since the city didn’t seem to want to clean it off, they decided to take matters into their own hands.

Today was the day they were finally going to do it and, if it worked, they would spend the rest of the day getting rid of as much graffiti as they could. And, as promised, it was a good deed he would be using his magic for. Not that many other mages or warlocks (whatever they wanted to call themselves, Bucky didn’t care) had to follow these rules, but they had been drilled into Bucky’s head since he was a babe.

 _Do not let those untrustworthy know of your gifts_ , his mother used to say, her soft hands stroking through his hair. _Keep it safe, a secret for just you and yours to know. Do only good and good will come to you._

So Bucky only practiced his magic among people who proved they could be trusted. His father and sister knew what he could do, of course. His father had married a fae, after all, and his sister had her own gifts. Rebecca _Knew_ things, though they had yet to find someone that could properly train her. Their mother tried, in their short visits to her forest lake, but there was only so much she could teach them.

“Don’t trip on the last step,” Rebecca called out, just as Bucky lost his footing and stumbled into the front door. “I warned you!”

Bucky snorted, pushing off the door and heading back to the kitchen where he had heard his sister’s voice. “Yeah, as I was tripping. Thanks, real helpful.”

“Don’t run so fast.”

“Maybe next time.” Bucky smiled as he saw her, brown hair loosely in a high ponytail so it wouldn’t fall across her face. She was deep in a bowl of dough, some of it tracked up her arms somehow, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up, it’s not like you’d help.” Rebecca pulled her hands out, half the dough threatening to follow it. “Ugh, what am I doing _wrong_?”

“Have you asked Clint?” Bucky grabbed a banana before leaning against the counter. “Where is the Little Man?”

“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that, you know.”

“What’s he going to do? Not clean my room? Good.”

“Brownies are good for more than just chores, idiot.” Rebecca made a face of disgust before nudging the bowl away from her and going to the sink. “I can make pastries and cakes and all sorts of sweets, but as _soon_ as I try something savory, it’s ruined. Why me?”

“Why not you?” Bucky broke off a piece of banana and held it out to Rebecca. She gave him a look before sighing and opening her mouth for the fruit. “Look, we can’t all be perfect at everything.”

“Speak for yourself.” Once her hands were dry, Rebecca reached over and grabbed the rest of the banana, ignoring Bucky’s protests. “It’s garlic bread. Or it should have been garlic bread.”

“You’ll get it if you stop taking my things.” Bucky grabbed an apple, putting distance between them. “Oi, Clint!”

“This is why he hates you.”

“No, he just _really_ likes you.” Bucky bit into his apple. Instead of the sweet juice he expected, something came out sour and he spit the offensive fruit out, gagging a bit. “Ugh, what the hell?”

“Told you,” Rebecca muttered.

“Clint!”

As if he dropped from the ceiling, a small, barely foot-high fae popped onto Bucky’s head and tugged at his hair. Bucky wanted to try and swat at the annoyance, but knew better than to further piss off the creature. Clint had been with them for as long as he could remember, having attached to their mother before transferring that attachment to Rebecca. He never liked their father, and barely tolerated Bucky.

“Oops, did I ruin your apple?” the little House Brownie asked, peeking his head down to stare at one of Bucky’s eyes. “My bad. I was aiming for something else.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky went back to the counter and leaned over before shaking his head to try and dislodge Clint. “Get _off_ me.”

“What’s the magic word,” Clint sing-songed. “I can’t move unless--”

“ _Please_ , damnit.”

“Absolutely no fun at all.” Clint vaulted off Bucky’s head and landed on the counter. “My lovely Becca! What did you _do_?”

“You’re both assholes,” Bucky decided before leaving them to their cooking discussions. He was sure neither noticed as he toed on his shoes and left the house.

Standing on the front porch, he went through the ritual one more time in his head before smiling and taking out his phone. Natasha hadn’t messaged him yet, but he hadn’t expected that -- when she made plans, she followed through without any of the “are you sure?” nonsense. Bucky sent a quick kiss-emoji anyway before tucking his phone away.

The overcast sky didn’t bode well for the day. Bucky liked to do his magic with the sun shining and the birds singing -- it added a bit of cheer to his good deeds, he thought. The one time he mentioned it to Natasha, she had simply rolled her eyes before calling him an optimistic idiot, but she also never tried to persuade him away from the thought.

One day without the sun shining couldn’t hurt, so if she asked if he wanted to actually do this, Bucky was going to tell her yes. It was the middle of the rainy season, after all, so who knew they would get another chance. No, better to just do it now and celebrate when the sun came out again. A day at the pool seemed like the perfect reward for a job well done.

Natasha Romanoff, while Bucky’s best friend, was the most secretive person he knew. Quiet on most days, she seemed to slip through the shadows and show up right where you least expected her. They had met years before -- Bucky’s mother had still been around and welcomed Natasha into their home practically off the streets. One moment Bucky was setting the table for four people, the next his mother pushed a skinny red-head down and told him they had a guest. Knowing better than to question, Bucky had simply grabbed an extra set of cutlery.

To this day, Bucky knew nothing about her family or where she lived. Natasha never liked to talk about it and constantly changed the subject until Bucky (or anybody else) had forgotten what they were asking. Still, something about her intrigued Bucky and so he kept close, inviting her to the park and other outings. They had become best friends almost without realizing it.

She waited for him on top of a bench, leaned back with her eyes scanning the crowds behind a pair of dark-purple sunglasses. A simple braid held her hair together, coming to rest just about mid-back. To Bucky, she would always be beautiful and if he were more interested in women, he would have already asked her out a million times over.

A small smile quirked at her lips as Bucky settled next to her. “I didn’t think you’d show,” she teased. “Too many clouds.”

“What, and ruin all of my hard memorization work? Not a chance.” Bucky reached over and plucked the glasses off her face so he could put them on his own. “Let’s do this.”

\-----

Something had gone wrong.

What exactly that something was, Bucky didn’t know, but it was bigger than he could handle. They had arrived at the graffiti early enough in the day that nobody else was around yet. Together, they went through the ritual twice to make sure it would be cast perfectly. New spells or rituals made Natasha nervous, so Bucky made sure they practiced enough to relax her during the cast.

They had cleared the area before Natasha sketched some runes over the graffiti. Bucky used that time to stretch, get his body loose and limber for the little bit of movement he would need to do. A crack of thunder sounded behind them and Bucky had hesitated, sharing a look with Natasha, before nodding. They could do this wall today, and anything else they found tomorrow. It looked to be a pizza and movie night.

As far as Bucky knew, he had gone through the motions cleanly. He cut his hand when he needed to cut, and slide his foot during the right word. Natasha had kept far enough back where she wouldn’t be affected by the ritual, and Bucky’s aim was true in his focus.

But still, something had gone wrong.

“What did you _do_?” Natasha screamed as the wall began to crumble. “Bucky!”

“I don’t know!” Bucky tried to think of the spell to stop it -- he _knew_ it, but the horror of the destruction happening in front of him cleared his memory. “Nat, I...”

The wall, separating the basketball court from the highway behind it, cracked completely. Bucky knew that unless it fell directly at them, it would get onto the highway and the damage to vehicles -- if not lives -- could be great. He raised his hands, ignoring how they shook, and tried to think of something -- _anything_ \-- to stop this.

“Bucky! _Pull it_!”

Right! Bucky shook his head and quickly shifted his feet apart, getting a good balance. He stretched both hands out and, with all the strength he could muster, screamed out, “ _Trahendum_ ,” and jerked his arms to his chest.

The wall shook further, leaning just a bit toward them. Bucky stretched his arms out, taking a deep breath to gather his strength again. He _couldn’t_ let the wall fall toward the road. He _wouldn’t_. He was already in enough trouble with destroying the damn thing, he wasn’t about to let people get hurt in the process.

Magic had a high price for any mistake, though perhaps he could beg mercy if he could _just pull the damn wall_.

“ _Trahendum_!” he screamed again, feeling the air around his hands grow thick. Once again, he jerked his hands toward his chest and let out a breath when it finally tilted completely toward them.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, the concrete spiked toward them. Bucky threw his arms up, crossed over his face before he really had time to think about it. The spell to shield himself dropped from his lips without thought. He heard a cry behind him and his head whipped around, eyes widening at the red stain spreading across Natasha’s shoulder.

“Natasha! Shit!” Bucky dropped his arms and ran to her, glad that at least the wall had already fallen and was done shooting concrete pieces at them. “Hey! Hey, come on, look at me.”

Natasha batted Bucky’s hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Surprised me, that’s all.” She pulled back her shirt to expose her shoulder and let out a hiss. “I just need to wash it out. I’ll be fine.”

“Gods, Nat, and I’m so sorry...” Bucky sat down, knees raised and his head between them. “I’m so fucked...”

“It’s just a scratch, Barnes. We just need to figure out what went wrong and--”

“You don’t get it, Nat. You don’t _get it_.”

 _Do only good and good will come to you._ His mother’s words echoed in Bucky’s mind as he sat there, trying not to hyperventilate. He had not only destroyed public property, but he had hurt someone in the process. He had hurt his _best friend_. He didn’t feel any different, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

“I have to go,” he said, quickly standing. “I have to... My mother...”

Natasha watched him for a long moment before standing as well, grasping his hand. “Do you want me to come with you?”

 _Yes!_ “N-no. No, I have to...”

“Then go.” She reached into her pocket and handed him her car keys. “You know my car. It’s on the corner by the bookshop.”

“I can’t--”

“Take it or I’m coming with you.”

Bucky looked at her bleeding shoulder one more time before nodding. “Okay. Okay, but go see Becca?”

She cupped his cheek softly before shoving him back. “ _Go_ , Barnes.”

Bucky stumbled, unsure now of his own footing. The sky opened up then, rain barely beginning as a drizzle before it became stronger. Terrified of what was to become of him, Bucky turned and fled. Even with Natasha’s car, it would take a few hours to get to his mother’s lake.

If he even had a few hours to spare.


	2. Chapter 2

_~How many years I know I’ll bear, I found something in the woods somewhere.~_

Everything hurt -- Bucky was even sure his _hair_ hurt. One of his feet was colder than the other, though he wasn’t sure when he could have lost a shoe. His shirt had definitely been torn as branches from the passing trees angrily dug into his skin. The forest had always been full of gentle fae, but gentle didn’t matter when magic lashed out. Anyone would protect their homes from destruction, and that’s all Bucky’s magic wanted to do.

Or that’s all it _had_ wanted to do. Something definitely felt different and he winced before pushing himself into a seated position against the tree he had apparently fallen against. Not that he remembered falling against it as the night continued to grow hazy the closer he got to the forest. He just hoped he hadn’t crashed Natasha’s car in his dash to get help.

“You’re awake.”

The soft voice surprised Bucky and he jumped, hand clutching the at his naked chest. “What...? Who...?”

The creature next to Bucky flinched away from his voice, sliding back into the branches of a nearby brush. The greyish-brown skin, tight against its bones, barely stood out among the foliage. Bucky could see fur coating its legs all the way down to its hooves, and tufts of hair matted on its chin. It took an embarrassingly long moment for Bucky to place the creature -- an Urisk. He didn’t remember one near his mother’s lake, but maybe one had moved in?

Its pointed ears twitched the longer Bucky stared, so he looked away. “Sorry, I...”

“It’s okay. Most flinch.”

“I’m Bucky and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The surprise that crossed its long face was worth it. “Names are powerful things, magic-user.”

“I agree, which is why I gave you only one of mine.”

The creature smiled, coming back from behind the brush. “Then I shall give you one of mine. You may call me Bruce.”

Bucky nodded at him, taking a good look at his companion. Now that he was over his initial shock, he could see how this particular Urisk tried his best to seem pleasant. A tuft of moss sat upon his head in a mock semblance of hair, neat and blowing gently in the soft breeze. He wore an open, brown vest and no pants -- not that it mattered since fur covered him from the waist down. Dry leaves and twine covered his hooves in what Bucky supposed were shoes, though he wasn’t sure why.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bruce. Tell me, are we close to the lake?”

“Winnie Lake? We are neither close nor are we far.” Bruce settled near Bucky’s knees. “Why is the lake important?”

“Winnie is my mom,” Bucky said, voice soft. “My magic... I need...”

Bruce’s face shifted from curious to angry. “You came here to expose your anger.”

“No! I would--”

“The trees are angry with you.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“They want you gone. They--”

“Bruce, don’t scare him.”

A new voice, deeper than Bruce’s, made Bucky jump again. Bruce scowled and muttered something rude as Bucky turned to the fae that managed to sneak upon them. Blond hair and a small, thin figure of a man stood a few feet away from them. Soft blue eyes crinkled in laughter even as Bruce righted himself.

Bucky had never in his life been so attracted to one person so fast.

Before he could say anything, his body cramped and he let out a groan, curling in on himself. The new fae’s hands were immediately on him, holding him in place so Bucky wouldn’t fall over onto the ground. Any other time, Bucky would have appreciated being held by someone as beautiful as the fae, but now wasn’t the time.

“I need... I need to see my mother,” he managed to get out between sharp breaths. “The lake...”

“You think she can help?” the fae asked, a hand cupping Bucky’s cheek. “Your magic is wild, more so than we’ve ever seen before. Some of the grass has died where you stepped and Bruce is right -- the others aren’t happy.”

“I’ll apologize, I swear.” Bucky’s shaky hand came up to go through the motions of a Vow. “I swear I will find a way to fix this.”

The fae bit his lip, looking toward the lake. “I...”

“Please, I’ll help you in return-”

“Don’t--” the fae tried to interject.

But Bucky continued. “I’ll help you in return if you get me to my mother.”

Silence stretched between the three of them after Bucky’s plea came out. Bucky knew there would be a price to pay later, but he didn’t care -- there was too much _pain_. He just wanted it to _end_.

“You’re speaking to the wrong fae,” Bruce said, breaking the tense silence. “Steve doesn’t go near water.”

The fae -- _Steve_ \-- huffed. “I don’t like water, that doesn’t mean I don’t go near it. I go near your pond.”

“There’s a difference between the lake and my pond,” Bruce insisted.

Something like determination came across Steve’s face before he helped Bucky stand, arm wrapped around Bucky’s naked waist. “There’s no difference. I’m helping him.”

Bruce smiled before crawling a few feet away. “What are we waiting for, then?”

Bucky looked down at the firm hand pressing into his skin. “You don’t need to carry...”

“I’m helping,” Steve repeated and then half-dragged, half-carried Bucky toward the lake.

\-----

Bruce told Bucky all about Steve during their trek through the woods. Bucky was sure it was to distract him from whenever his magic would arch out and he appreciated the distraction. He thought it might have felt awkward since the fae continued to hold him close, but Steve just nodded in the right places or corrected an exaggeration when Bruce went too far.

It went a little like this...

Steve hadn’t been born a fae, a fact that caused others in the forest to keep their distance. No, he had been cursed into it. Born in the early 1900s as the son of an immigrant hadn’t been easy, especially with his lengthy list of medical issues. By the time the 1918 plague hit, the priest visited every other day to say his last rites.

Sarah Rogers would have none of that, though. Desperate, she found the local fae and begged for help. She ignored the warnings and claimed to do “anything” to save her only son. To save Steve. Eventually, she was led to a Ballybog that stowed away on a ship to settle in the lush lands around the new colonies. 

Being from Ireland herself, Sarah was familiar with the creatures and allowed the fae to help her. Still ignoring any future consequences, she gave Steve anything the Ballybog told her. Slowly, achingly, Steve got better. He survived the Flu, he survived his own ailments, and he grew stronger. By the time he survived his twenty-first birthday, he had grown taller than most of the men in their neighborhood. He used his newfound muscles to help with labor and work the docks.

Life had been good.

But all magic came with a price, and Sarah Rogers was running out of time to pay it. She never revealed to her son just what that price was, but she passed before she could fulfill it. Steve wanted to go to the fae, just as his mother had done for him, but she refused. She refused every day until her last breath passed her lips.

That was the night the Ballybog found its way into their apartment to collect. It knew that Sarah had passed and before Steve could try to make a new deal, the Ballybog took its price.

The muscles Steve had come to rely on didn’t change, but all of his ailments would return if he did not follow the new life the Ballybog gave to him. A Woodland Dryad, it said, and Steve’s health would forever be tied to his singular tree. A Hamadryad, unable to leave this new forest home.

Steve hadn’t cared -- his mother was all he had at the time. If she were dead, what else did he have to live for?

So Steve wrapped himself in the branches of his tree and mourned for his mother. He mourned for the ostracism he received from the other fae around him. For nearly a decade, he mourned.

Meeting Bruce happened by accident when the Urisk stopped to scratch his back against Steve’s tree. Since most fae were highly protective of their trees, he hadn’t thought it occupied. Until Bruce, Steve stayed in his branches and watched as the other forest fae danced in the leaves and the moonlight.

Until Bucky, Steve hadn’t left his tree to explore.

“You should have been more careful with your promises,” Steve said once Bruce finished the story. “Whether I’m a true fae or not doesn’t matter. You should have been more specific in what you would do in return.”

Bucky laughed and tilted his head up to look at the twinkling stars that poked out between the tree branches. “Does it matter? Things can’t get much worse anyway.”

“Maybe he can help you break your curse,” Bruce suggested.

“Sounds good,” Bucky agreed. “Yeah?”

Steve let out a breath as if he wasn’t sure. “Okay. I’ll help you to your mother, and you help me find a way to break my curse.”

Bucky winced as another pain laced through his body. “Sounds good.”

\-----

Steve settled Bucky on the edge of the lake, letting the brunet dip his dirty feet into the cool water. The fae stayed out of reach of the lake, but he kept close enough to give Bucky a semblance of comfort. His magic hadn’t pulsed out again, but he could feel it draining. He could feel it seeping from his skin and into the ground (and now the water) below him.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think he would just lose his magic and be fine. Magic was the first thing to go, he was sure. There were stories of people losing a sense -- or even a limb -- for the misuse of their power. While Bucky’s misuse had been an accident, he knew better than to think he would get off easy. Magic wasn’t that kind.

“Do you truly think she’ll be able to help you?” Steve said after Bruce ducked himself into the water. The Urisk knew these waters well and could get to Winnifred the fastest. “Not that I doubt you, but...”

“It’s okay, I get it.” Bucky closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water ease the ache a little. “Honestly, I didn’t know where else to go. My mother’s blood gave me magic, so I’m hoping she’ll help me fix my mistake.”

“Was this mistake that bad?”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked toward Steve. He got lost for a moment in the other’s baby blue eyes before Steve blinked and the moment was gone; Bucky turned away so he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Like try to _kiss_ him. (He really wanted to.) So instead, he focused on the question Steve asked, trying to look at what happened subjectively.

Not that it mattered. It happened.

“I was trying to clear graffiti off a wall with a friend. We found a cleaning spell and I practiced it for a while before we tried it. Didn’t want to anger the magic by taking out the wall.” Bucky shrugged, flexing his feet a bit. “But I still screwed it up. Something happened and I brought the wall down and it hit my friend... Made her bleed.”

Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, offering silent support. Of course Steve would understand magic gone wrong. It was stupid to even add useless words like ‘oh but you were doing something good’ or ‘it was just an accident.’ Magic didn’t believe in accidents.

“I’m sure there’s something... It might not be the best solution, but I bet there’s something that can help,” Steve eventually said, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder gently.

The water rippled before them, stopping Bucky from giving any kind of answer. Bruce’s head popped up first and he smiled at the two of them. As he jumped from the water and began to shake off the droplets that clung to him, a woman emerged.

Her brown hair, deep like the bark of a tree, flowed just beyond her shoulders to cover her naked breasts. Steve blushed, but Bucky smiled as he saw her, used to how she was in the wild. As soon as she got close enough, Winnifred reached out and cupped Bucky’s cheek, sliding her thumb just under his eye.

“My child...”

Magic snapped around them without warning. Bucky flinched away from his mother, not wanting her to be hurt from any backlash that could come from him. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more hurt in the forest, especially to the woman who meant everything to him.

But once everything calmed and the magic settled around them, Bucky realized that _he_ hadn’t been the one to cause such a backlash. He opened his eyes to see that both his mother and Bruce were staring off to his side -- Bruce was more gaping than staring. Bucky jerked his head around, eyes widening as he took in the new figure of Steve next to him. 

Bigger than he had been, Steve stood next to the bank of the water and stared at his hands. He clenched them once before kneeling and pressing a hand against the ground. When nothing happened, he let out a soft laugh and looked to Bucky, excitement in his eyes.

“I... I think I’m _human_ again.”

“How is that possible?” Bucky turned back to his mother. “How...?”

“He kept his end of the bargain,” Bruce said. “He promised to take you to your mother and he did... Is that enough?”

“Could be,” Winnifred said before floating closer to Bucky. “But what is important is you, my son. What happened?”

Bucky leaned back into her hand as he told her what happened. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on her face, so he kept his eyes averted. He had sworn never to do harm, and here he was admitting that he had done so. Perhaps not willingly, but the power came from him. He had directed it, he had pushed it out.

His mother leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. It soothed the headache forming there, but Bucky could still feel the swirl of magic beneath his skin. It stopped draining, it seemed like, but it was now simmering. He let out a long breath of air, letting his forehead rest on his mother’s shoulder.

“Am I going to die?”

“No, my son.” Winnifred ran a hand through Bucky’s hair. “What do you feel now?”

“I don’t know.”

She hummed to herself before gently easing Bucky to sit up. “Think hard. What do you _feel_.”

Bucky hesitated before closing his eyes and letting himself really feel what was around him. It meant opening the gate that held his magic in, but he trusted his mother. The last of the simmering, angry magic immediately escaped through him and he let out a soft groan, expecting an empty feeling to take its place.

One never did.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt the Earth beneath his legs -- the gentle movements of the insects that hid away from the world and the happy hum of the trees’ roots. The water lapped at his ankles in a happy dance while the fish fluttered their way through the lake. Bucky could feel the soft glow of the moon through his skin and hear the cry of birds as they settled for the night.

Among everything he could feel, just as he could have always felt it before, there was something new. A thread of sorts stretched out from his heart and he frowned before following it. He reached a hand out, fingers ghosting across the otherwise invisible tether, and paused when his fingers touched another’s chest.

Bucky opened his eyes to stare at Steve, both of their eyes wide. Bucky let his hand spread across Steve’s chest, resting right over the other’s heart, as he realized what it meant. Steve had held up his end of the deal by getting Bucky to his mother, and in turn, Bucky had held up his own deal by finding a way to break Steve’s curse.

“A tether,” he murmured, unable to look away from Steve now. “We’re tied because of our deals.”

“I don’t understand.” Steve rested his hand over Bucky’s, though he didn’t try to move it. “What does that mean?”

“It means magic isn’t happy you found a way to easily get around Her,” Bruce said. “Right?”

Winnifred nodded. “The Urisk is correct. Neither of your deals could be completed without the other, thus neither of you needed to do the proper work magic wanted. But, a deal is a deal and it was honored.”

“With a price,” Bruce added. “Always a price.”

“You can’t let your string stretch too far. Meaning the two of you must stay together in some capacity.” Winnifred rested a hand on Bucky’s knee, frowning. “If one dies, so might the other. I’m not sure.”

Staring at Steve, watching his skin tint red in a blush, Bucky was sure he wouldn’t have a problem staying close to him. When their eyes met again, Bucky couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. The blush rose higher and Bucky vowed to himself to find reasons to see it more often.

“I doubt that’ll be hard,” he teased, turning his hand so he could lace their fingers together. “Always wanted to bring a good fella home.”

Steve looked away, but the smile on his face was obvious to those gathered around the lake. Bucky knew Becca would find reasons to baby him, and he was sure Steve wouldn’t like that, but he also couldn’t wait for this new life to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fae in order of appearance:  
> Clint Barton: Brownie (or House Brownies/Little Man), a fae that has affiliated themselves with humans and their families. They are friendly and helpful, picking a house with a nice and caring family in which to aid the women in their chores.  
> Bruce Banner: Urisk, or a hermit fairy who haunts lonesome pools of water. They frequently seek out human company, though their appearance tends to terrorize any they approach.  
> Steve Rogers: Woodland Dryad - specifically a Hamadryad, though he was not born one. He was cursed to become one by a Ballybog after his mother couldn’t follow through on a promise to the fae. Hamadryads are bonded to a certain tree; if their tree died, the hamadryad associated with it would die as well.  
> Unnamed Ballybog (mentioned): Ballybog (or Peat Fairy) is an ancient Irish fairy that protects the peat bogs of Ireland. They’re ugly in appearance, typically covered in mud and very round.  
> Winnifred Barnes: Gwragedd Annwn (or Gwageth Anoon), a traditionally Welsh water fairy who sometimes comes up to choose a human husband. Her story, in particular, is based on the tale recorded by John Rhys in _Celtic Folklore_.


End file.
